


when one door closes

by schittyfic (sixtysevenlmpala)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: (in a bathroom), Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Patrick Brewer is Thirsty, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Trapped, i mean...they both are, ish, just two horny boyfriends taking advantage of a not-ideal situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 23:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtysevenlmpala/pseuds/schittyfic
Summary: Patrick fits two fingertips under David’s chin, tilting his head for another kiss, this one deeper, hotter. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”“Um.” David pauses, puzzled. “We need to bring a Swiss army knife to all future apartment viewings?”“Well, yes, that.” Patrick laughs again. This time it’s low and conspiratorial, tickling David’s ear. “But mostly I was thinking we should fuck in here before Ray gets back.”“I’m sorry, what - you wanna -what?!”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 56
Kudos: 159
Collections: Nothing Desperate About It





	when one door closes

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the [Nothing Desperate About It](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/nothingdesperateaboutit/profile) collection, set between Grad Night and Housewarming, which celebrates moments where David and Patrick managed to sneak in short moments of privacy. Each work in the collection represents a different location. Please do check out all of the other amazing works!
> 
> Thank you to dazedwriter for organising this delightful little mini-fest!
> 
> Special shout-outs to blackandwhiteandrose and midnightstreet for invaluable validation and bracket-filling, and fishyspots for the writing company. You guys are all way too good to me.
> 
> 💛

*

David has walked into a waking nightmare. It’s the only explanation for why he’s currently trailing after Ray around the fifth apartment of the day, with a pasted-on smile and a steadily shrinking fuse.

Of course, he wants to find somewhere nice for them. And logically, he knows that in order to find that one little gem which has to be hiding somewhere in this town, one has to go through the process, as it were. It’s just that the process is so _arduous_ , and involves a frankly startling lack of snack breaks. His stomach grumbles. Patrick laughs at him quietly when he hears it, but rubs a reassuring hand over his back, which helps. A little.

“As you can see, this particular apartment has an _abundance_ of what we in the real estate business like to call, _‘character’_ ,” Ray says, miming big air-quotes. David does not think it’s humanly possible to make air-quotes large enough to convey just how much of a stretch that is.

“I can see that. It’s… rustic,” Patrick offers, always trying so very hard, bless his heart. 

“What a great phrasing, Patrick! Let me write that one down. Have you ever considered a career as a realtor?”

Inwardly (okay, and outwardly) wincing, David glances around. Everything in this apartment feels like it was knocked together by two drunk t-rexes. Not only could it come crashing down at any moment, but more importantly, it’s very, very irksome. First of all, there’s the baffling choice to have cabling running diagonally across the ceiling instead of following the walls. Speaking of walls, there’s one section which appears to be painted with _just_ the wrong shade to match the rest. And don’t even get him started on the fact that the fucking _light switches_ are wonky. All of them, offset by a noticeable ten degrees. How is it possible to fuck all of them up like that? Surely that must be a conscious choice? Is it some kind of artistic statement?!

David grimaces. Whatever it is, he hates it. Also, he would very much appreciate a muffin right about now.

He suffers through an undisclosed amount of time spent touring this godforsaken _hellscape_ , nodding and humming in what he thinks are the right places, until he can feel himself about to explode.

“Mm, mhm, mhm, mhm.” Ray blinks in surprise as David cuts him off, mid-sentence. “You know, I think maybe we’ve seen - Patrick, can we maybe--?” David moves through a complicated series of head-jerks and eyebrow-wiggles, and is affronted that Patrick doesn’t immediately read his mind. 

“Oh, would you like to see the lease agreement? That’s great news!” Ray is already rummaging in his bag.

Catching the abject horror on David’s face, Patrick holds out a hand to stop Ray. “You know, Ray, I think we just need to discuss it a little before making any decisions. David and I.”

“Oh! Of course!” Ray gives a tinkling laugh. “Silly me. Go right ahead.”

David nods gratefully, turning to Patrick, who turns to him. Then, slowly, both sets of eyes slide back over to where Ray is still standing, beaming at them expectantly.

“Uh, maybe in private?” Patrick tries valiantly, as David loses the ongoing battle not to bury his face in his hands.

“Oh, but that’s the real beauty of this apartment, Patrick - it’s such an intimate space that _every_ conversation feels private!”

“Oh my _actual_ god!” David bursts out, grabbing Patrick’s arm and bodily dragging him towards the nearest door he can put between them and Ray. 

“Okay, take your time!” Ray calls after them, as David yanks Patrick into the most cramped bathroom in existence. He slams the door shut after him - or, he tries to, but it just bangs off the frame and swings back open. With a frustrated _ugh_ and a few choice words, David shoves it harder, and budges his shoulder against it for good measure, until it finally wedges into place.

“Well, that was… impressive,” Patrick comments.

“Hangry adrenaline. And a genuine fear that I might commit homicide if we stayed out there any longer,” David huffs, planting his hands on his hips. He tries to hold onto the frustration of the day, but as soon as he meets Patrick’s eyes, they’re both stifling laughter, Patrick leaning on David’s shoulder as he struggles to keep quiet.

“What the fuck are we doing here?” David wheezes.

“Oh my god, David, I feel so bad, he’s trying so hard, but Jesus Christ, did you see the light switches?”

“The fucking _light switches!”_

“Like, were they trying to _deliberately_ fuck with anyone who ends up living here?”

Hearing his own thoughts echoing back at him in Patrick’s voice, David takes a moment to appreciate his choice of man to fall in love with. “You _have_ to tell him.”

“It’s like kicking a puppy, David!”

“Okay, but --”

“Gentlemen?” An all too familiar voice, and a breezy knock. “I just thought I’d let you know that this door tends to jam if you force it.”

David instantly whips around to stare at the door, then back at Patrick.

“I was going to mention before you closed it, but I assumed you were having a lover’s tiff and I didn’t want to intrude.”

There’s a tense silence, and David slowly reaches for the handle. Twists. Pulls.

Nothing.

He wrenches it harder, spluttering a panicked, “Fuck, _fuck!"_ , and then Patrick is shouldering him out of the way in a matter-of-fact manner which would be sexy if it wasn’t a little irritating. And if David wasn’t convinced he was going to die of starvation in this room.

“Yeah, that’s stuck,” Patrick confirms, as if he didn’t just try _exactly_ what David did. 

“Yes, thank you, honey, I can see that.”

“Not to worry,” Ray chimes from the other side. David groans and thunks his forehead into the door. “This has actually happened during my last two viewings of this property. People really seem to enjoy closing themselves in the bathroom!”

“Oh my god,” Patrick mutters in disbelief.

“Bob has an excellent crowbar which does just the trick! Would you like me to go get him?”

“Yes, Ray, we would like that.”

By the time Ray has informed them he’ll be at least thirty minutes and finally, finally left, Patrick has wound up sitting on the closed toilet seat with his head in his hands. David stands stock-still in the middle of the room, arms folded tight to avoid touching any of the dust-laden surfaces.

“Well.” David purses his lips, looking around him with distaste. “I guess the same person who did the light switches was also in charge of making sure the doors fit in the fucking frames.”

Patrick gives a tight laugh, but it sounds almost strangled. David tilts his head at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just.” Patrick shrugs, staring at the floor as one knee jigs up and down. “I’m not the biggest fan of, uh, confined spaces.”

“Oh.” It surprises David, for some reason. For all that he knows and loves Patrick’s flaws and insecurities by this point, it’s still somewhat jarring to learn that someone so strong, so quietly confident, could be floored by something David might consider inconsequential. It also makes him a little less terrifyingly perfect, though, so David never minds. “Oh, honey. Come here. Get off the toilet.”

Patrick does the tiny laugh again and stands, letting David envelop him in a hug, tight and safe. His lips brush habitually against David’s neck, and David suppresses a shiver at the feeling. It’s really not fair, all these fleeting touches and kisses that Patrick is wont to drop onto him at the most inconvenient moments. Particularly when the privacy to, um, _connect,_ has been severely lacking of late. 

“It’s going to be just fine. I have… faith… in Bob and Ray.” David winces as he says it. There couldn’t be anything less reassuring than that. “Is there - what can I do? To help?”

“No, nothing. It’s not a huge deal. Just this. This is… nice.”

It is nice. David strokes up and down Patrick’s spine and breathes him in, trying to forget exactly where they are, and that he’s physically barricaded from accessing any kind of sweet treat for at least half an hour. They stay like that for a while, in a way that those brief hugs at the store just can’t stretch to, and David sighs into Patrick’s shoulder as he feels a little tension seep out of him. He can’t ignore the way his body responds to the sensation of Patrick melting into him like that, but he tries his damnedest, flicking his eyes up to the ceiling in a silent prayer not to come in his pants just from his boyfriend _hugging him_. 

“David,” Patrick murmurs, and David pulls back, just enough to look at him, enough for Patrick to tilt their mouths together all tender and soft. “David,” he says again. David loves the way his name sounds when Patrick says it. 

“Mhm, I’m here,” David breathes out, clinging to some semblance of self-control because despite the flickers of heat in his stomach from the pliant plushness of Patrick’s mouth, this is about reassurance. Comfort. Being _there_ for Patrick. It’s definitely not the time for… anything else.

The fact that they haven’t been able to snatch enough time to fuck in nine whole days is irrelevant. Completely.

“ _Y_ _eah_ you are,” Patrick says teasingly, pulling back with an amused grin and a deliberate glance at David’s crotch, where his dick is starting to strain at his zipper.

“Okay, that’s not - it’s your fault! I’m trying to be a - a supportive boyfriend! But this has been a _very_ stressful day and it’s been a _while_ and you smell really nice and you just - you’re just everywhere!”

“David. David.” Patrick laughs, a real laugh this time, which makes David disgustingly happy. He hated that other laugh, the forced one stretched over an underlayer of anxiety. This one, he loves. “You are a supportive boyfriend. Thank you.”

David huffs, but really, he’s more concerned with the way Patrick’s hand is sneaking up under his sweater, tracing the waistband of his jeans. “Well. That’s fortunate for you, then.”

“It is.” Patrick fits two fingertips under David’s chin, tilting his head for another kiss, this one deeper, hotter. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Um.” David pauses, puzzled. “We need to bring a Swiss army knife to all future apartment viewings?”

“Well, yes, that.” Patrick laughs again. This time it’s low and conspiratorial, tickling David’s ear. “But mostly I was thinking we should fuck in here before Ray gets back.”

“I’m sorry, what - you wanna - _what?!_ ” 

Patrick shrugs and hooks his fingers in David’s jeans, pulling them flush, and _oh_ , okay, Patrick’s hard, too. Fuck, he’s very hard.

“You were _scared_ a second ago!”

“Maybe you have a very calming effect on me.” Patrick exaggeratedly juts his bottom lip out, batting his eyelashes. “Or, yeah, actually, maybe I’m _very_ anxious right now, and I _need_ you to take my mind off it.”

David snickers. “That is such bullshit.”

“Mhm. So how about - it’s been nine days, we’ve got a door literally trapping us from the rest of the world and a guaranteed half-hour of privacy, and I really, really want to make you come.”

“Uh.” David swallows. “It’s really - really more like twenty minutes, now.”

Patrick backs him up against the door, solid wood behind him and a powerhouse of firm muscle and dangerously serious eyes in front. “Then I guess we gotta be fast.”

David has no idea who leans in first, only that they’re suddenly all over each other, Patrick’s hands sliding up under his sweater as his own grab Patrick’s ass, tongues and teeth frantically clashing. “Oh - that’s - that’s not going to be a problem,” David gasps out, using the door as leverage to drive his hips forward.

“Fuck,” Patrick mutters sharply, no shame in the way he’s practically humping David’s thigh. “Get your dick out, c’mon, wanna touch you.”

“Yep, mhm, I can do that.” They pull apart, the need for efficiency winning out over the usual desire to strip each other of their clothes, both of them instead hurriedly unzipping and shoving their respective pants down to mid-thigh. It’s ridiculous and desperate and David can’t believe he’s been reduced to this, but he also doesn’t fucking _care_ because seeing Patrick pull his hard cock out of his jeans and groan as he fists it is like a thousand Christmukahs in one.

He yanks Patrick forward, both giggling as their hands fumble and knock together before they manage to wrap a hand around each other. David groans, instantly fucking into Patrick’s hand, and Patrick’s mirroring the movements of his body, hips rolling and rutting gracelessly. 

They’re pressed so close, Patrick panting into his neck and David pressing his forehead into Patrick’s shoulder. There’s really no room to actually jerk each other off, but it doesn’t even occur to David to pull back - this is what he’s been dying for, the urgent heat between them, even as his sweater rucks up and creases terribly, and a bead of sweat inches down his spine. With their hands wedged between their bodies, they squeeze at each other, David just trying to give him something to fuck into, and it’s gotta be working because Patrick’s shaking already.

“Yeah, are you gonna come already?”

“Fuck, I think so - I’m so…”

“So easy for me,” David whispers, and Patrick shivers, nods, fucks a little harder.

“I missed this, David, I needed you, I need you all the fucking time --”

David’s heart pangs at that, as insanely hot as it is. “I know, honey. Fuck, _oh_ \- need you too. Wish we could…”

“Yeah?” Patrick whines, hanging on every word. “Tell me, please tell me.”

David grins breathlessly. “Wish I could get you naked, watch that pretty flush go _all_ the way down your body. Wish I could bend you over that fucking _disgusting_ countertop and fuck you like you deserve, every fucking day.”

“Yeah, yeah, _yes_ ,” Patrick breathes, grinding David almost painfully into the door with the force of his thrusts. Not only can David feel him dripping over his fingers, he can _hear_ the slickness as his foreskin shifts and slides, obscene in the hushed heat. David never gets as wet as Patrick does, and for a second he mourns the absence of the _very_ nice organic lube stashed away at Ray’s as Patrick’s dry grip makes him hiss - but he’s impossibly hard, and the friction has his toes curling in his boots. 

When Patrick comes, it’s sudden and intense, and _impressively_ quiet. His mouth drops open on a choked-off gasp, lashes fluttering on his cheeks as he grips David’s shoulder with his spare hand like a vice and mouths the word _fuck_.

It’s the hottest thing David has ever fucking seen.

“Oh my god, okay, wow.”

A little dazed just from watching it, David holds his come-covered hand out away from them like he’s lost. Without wasting another second, Patrick grabs his wrist and licks his palm with a wide, flat tongue, messy and gorgeous and so fucking sexy. David whimpers, can’t look away. 

“Jesus, Patrick.” David lurches forward, his tongue joining Patrick’s on his own hand, meeting and sliding together between the webs of his fingers. He pulls back after a second and sucks two of his own fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste. It’s bitter and filthy and it makes his dick twitch, reminds him of how hard he is.

Patrick’s hand has turned useless on his dick, and David’s too close, too impatient, so he bats it away and starts jerking himself rough and tight, the remnants of come and spit on his hand still not _enough_. “You’re so fucking hot - spit on my cock, baby, c’mon, so close --”

“Nah,” Patrick says, “I’ll do you one better,” and then he’s sinking down, boneless and smug, onto his knees.

“OhmygodI’mgonna _die_ ,” David rushes out, knees buckling as Patrick takes him all the way in one quick, cocky slide. “Oh baby, honey, oh fuck that’s so good, holy _fuck_.”

David is well-aware he can’t keep his mouth shut as soon as Patrick’s is on his cock. It’s an issue; more than a few times, Patrick has flat-out refused to continue, Ray’s NCIS re-runs downstairs no match for the litany of endearments and curses and showy moans spilling from David’s mouth. He’ll always get him off another way, of course, but the wildness that Patrick’s lips stretched around his dick unlocks in him brings with it a truly impractical level of noise.

Now, though? Well. They’re all alone.

“Shit, oh, oh my _god_ , baby, just like that, fucking take it oh god please Patrick don’t stop…” 

David grabs in vain at Patrick’s short hair, his hands instead sliding to their habitual spots - one cupping the back of his head, one on his jaw so he can feel him straining to open wider. Patrick’s gaze, fixed on his face, is a little wild, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s doing, but god _damn_ is he going for it. The bobs of his head are no-nonsense, deliberate, his cheeks hollowed as far as they’ll go as David’s cock plunges again and again into the hot-wet of his mouth, slides over his tongue, bumps against the back of his throat. It’s the kind of sloppy, dirty, perfect blowjob that David will remember for years to come, the kind that he knows is going to absolutely ruin him.

“ _Fuck,_ honey, you’re so - you’re so good at this, so pretty, love the way you suck me,” David gasps, devolving into a series of loud, keening moans. 

He’s thrusting forward now, and Patrick just leans right into it to let him slip into his throat. David can feel his thighs trembling. He traces the seam of Patrick’s slick lips with his thumb, and without hesitation, Patrick opens impossibly wider to take it into his mouth. David _groans_ , stroking the inside of his cheek and feeling his own cock slipping past his thumb. It tugs at the heat coiling in his belly, pulls it tighter and tighter, tension building as he hurtles uncontrollably towards the brink.

“Oh god, fuck, fuck _me_ \- baby, baby, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”

_Slam._

The sound of a door closing reverberates through the apartment. David hiccups out a tiny moan even as Patrick pulls back and they both strain to listen, frozen in place. Yep, that’s - that’s definitely Ray waxing poetic to Bob about the joys of community vegetable gardens, and they’re getting closer, and _fuck_ , David can’t believe they have to stop when he’s so--

“ _Patrick,_ ” he hisses, jolting as Patrick starts jerking him, hard and fast. He’s teetering on that white-hot edge, the panic somehow sharpening it, and he could so easily fall, but - “Oh - oh god, you need to stop, I can’t keep quiet.”

David’s whispered protests are met with a smirk, an, “Oh, I think you can,” and a mimed zipping of the lips. David fucking hates him.

Patrick doesn’t lean in, though, obviously waiting for David to break, which he _does_ because he’s predictable and horny and so fucking desperate, always, for Patrick. He yanks Patrick forward, sinking his cock back into his mouth and snapping his hips in quick, single-minded thrusts, chasing the sensation, completely heedless of anything else.

“Gentlemen? How are we holding up in there?”

David squeezes his eyes shut in a vain effort to hang onto his control, because there must be some kind of law against coming with Ray’s voice in his ears, but he _can’t stop_ , it’s taking over him and all he can do is fall. He claps a sweaty palm to his mouth, shuddering and sliding down the door a little with the force of the orgasm that hits him. His heart is pounding in his ears, the frantic need to stay quiet sending sharp thrills through his body.

Patrick swallows neatly, sits back. “Hey, Ray. We're all good.”

He’s infuriatingly calm, watching David happily as David sucks in breath after breath. There’s a sudden scrape of metal and groan of wood behind him, and he jumps away from the door in fright, scrambling to stuff his dick back into his jeans. From the other side, Bob chuckles and calls out, “Alright, stay back from the door, you guys,” as if he hasn’t _already started_ , and David rolls his eyes, exasperated.

“C’mere,” Patrick murmurs, getting to his feet - when did he zip himself up _and_ tuck his shirt back in? The man is a wizard - and kissing David all slow and languid, like Bob isn’t literally about to break down the door. He gets David’s pants fastened, smoothes out his sweater, fixes his hair; as if they have all the time in the world, and all he wants to do with it is take care of David.

David leans into it until Bob finally cracks the door open - in fact, pries it right off one of the hinges, leaving it swinging sadly at an angle. David turns around slowly, one of Patrick’s arms still lingering around his waist, and eyes it critically.

“Ah. Oops,” Bob chuckles. “Don’t know my own strength!” Ray stares at it in slight dismay, but then glances at David and Patrick, flashing them a sunny smile.

“Was the AC not working? You both look awfully flushed.”

Patrick coughs, his cheeks going even redder. It’s adorable. “Yes, it was very, very hot in here,” David says solemnly, lips twisting in triumph as Patrick has to stifle a laugh next to him.

“Patrick! You look especially flustered.”

“Mm, well, this one’s a little claustrophobic, poor li’l lamb.”

Unseen, Patrick slides his hand into David’s back pocket and squeezes. “Y’know, actually, I think I might be cured, now,” Patrick says casually as he walks out of the room, David following with his eyes on the ground to hide the idiotic grin on his face.

“Well.” Ray glances at the broken door, then appears to breezily dismiss it. “I _do_ have one more apartment to show you, if you’re willing…?”

“Oh!” David grimaces. “That - that is very kind, Ray, but we’ve just survived a _harrowing ordeal_ , so. I think it’s important that we, you know, take time to recover, _recuperate_ \--”

“I almost forgot,” Ray interrupts, producing a promisingly-weighty, cinnamon-scented brown paper bag. “I heard your stomach rumbling earlier, David, so I brought you some snacks.”

David’s mouth waters. Tentatively, like a deer that might spook at any moment, he reaches out and takes the bag, peeking inside and instantly closing it with a look of barely-contained delight. 

“ _I mean_. I guess we could see _one_ more _._ ”

*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I have been struggling with the ol' writing thing lately so I was so relieved to finish this. It means a lot that you read it, and kudos/comments mean even more right now.
> 
> Alternatively, feel free to come yell at me on [tumblr](https://schittyfic.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Also, fun fact: every detail of this godforsaken apartment is taken directly from a horrific flat I rented while I was at uni. The LIGHT SWITCHES, you guys!! _shudder_
> 
> Love to you all, stay safe. 💛


End file.
